I could not think of a single thing to say. I knew that if I spoke I would be pathetic, so I remained silent. When he'd finished, I stared straight ahead at the split between the curtains, and, looking at the beam of raw light com- ing through, 1 selid, "1 think there's frost outside," and he said that possibly there was, because winter was upon us. \\rT e got up, and, as usual, he took the bulb out of the bedside lamp and screwed in his razor. I went off to get breakfast. That was the only morning I forgot about squeezing orange juice for him, and I often wonder if he took it as an insult. He left just before nine. The sitting room held the traces of his visit. ()r, to be precise, the remains of his cigars. In one of the blue, saucer- shaped ashtrays, there were thick clumps of dark-gray cigar ash There were also three stubs, but it "\vas the ash I kept looking at, thinking that its thickness resemoled the thickness of his unlovely legs. And once again ] experienced hatred for him. I was about to tIp the contents of the ashtray int0 the fire grate when something stopped me, and what did I do but get an empty lozenge box and with the aid of a sheet of paper lift the ash in there and carry the tin upstairs. With the move- ment, the clumps lost their shapes, and "\vhereas the} held remInded me of his legs, they were now an even mass of dark-gray ash, probably like the ashes of the dead. 1 put the tin box In a dra"\ver underneath some vests Later in the day, I was given my a "\Nard-a very big sil ver m,edallion "\vith my name on it. i\.t the party after- ward, I got drunk. My friends tell me that I did not actually disgrace m} self, but I have a humiliating recollection of beginning a story and not being able to go ahead with it-not _ because the content eluded me but because the words became too difficult to pro- nounce. i\. man brought me home, and after I'd made him a cup of tea I said good night circumspectly; then, when he "\vas gone, I staggered to my bed When I drink heavily, I sleep badlv. Wakening, I sa "\v that it was stil1 dark, and my memory went back straight- a"\vay to the previous morning and the suggestion of frost outside and his cold warning words. I had to agree. Al- though our meetings were perfect, I had a sense of doom impending, of a chasm opening up between us, of some- one telling his wife, of souring love, of destruction. A.nd still we hadn't gone as far as we should have gone. There were peaks of joy and of its opposite that we should have reached, but the time was not left to us. He had said, "You still - .... -- ,' -r -- j, f'-- --- -:::: : ,.r , i) o \' ...'>1 .....>. t. "'\ '\) \ , \ . \ \ , ' , " 11. t / " "'!'_'. --'G" . " ,\ " \ .' / þ t, J. '" \-,1 -- " .;.:, "'!' *"--' /..- , .... "...;. , "' ,.."., - b. '';;" "', ,4j -0.. ...... Ä. ,..<: L'. À _ - \ 47 t (;; /'" t . ',j t /' """', - \ , ,- ,, ) 1 'f ", t h ,: r ' . .. ( / , I , f '1' " ;. I f \! , ' 'I ^A f r, $ +. .. / \ i \ {t '\ - / Æ 'f r '1 \ .\/ þ J i>; . ,,}, ............. \ ... ., i': .. , . -- " <'.".X' ,., ....... ((Actually) he has never wanted to sellizis paintings) but we)'[;'e been able to convince him that the search for a responsi"ùe echo is part of the creative experience.)) . ha ve a great physical hold over me," and that in its way I found degrading. rr 0 have made love after he had dis- carded me would have been too hurtful. We had come to the end. The thirrg I kept thinking of was a violet in a "\vood and how the time had come for it to drop off and die. The frost may have had somethIng to do with my thinkIng-or, rather, my musing. I got up and put on a dressIng gown. My head hurt from a hangover, but I kne"\v that I must "\vrite to him while I had some resolution. I know my o"\vn fail- ings, and I knew that before the day was out I "\vould "\vant to see him again, to sit with him, coax him back with sweetness and my overwhelming help- lessness. . I wrote the note, leaving out the bit about the violet. It is not a thing you can put down on paper without seem- ing fanciful. I said if he didn't think it prudent to see me, then not to see me. I said it had been a nice interlude and that we must entertain good memories of it. It was a remarkably controlled letter. He wrote back promptly. My decision came as a shock, he said. Still, he admitted that I was right. In the middle of the letter, he said he must penetrate my composure, and to do so he must admit that ahove and heyond everythIng he loved me and would always do so. That, of course, was the word I had been snooping around for for months. It set me off. I wrote a long letter back to hIm. I lost